The Virginity Pact

5 - escort me not

Hey Upper East Siders, it's that time of year again. When the mere act of descending a staircase means you're a woman. That's right: Debutante season. And from what we hear, there's been some changes to the lineup.

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"So what's next on the agenda?" I ask Holden.

We sit in the courtyard while I eat my lunch--a burger and fries from Five-Guys--a place I didn't even know about until he introduced it to me last week.

"Cotillion," he responds, stealing one of my fries.

Since brunch last week, Holden's been more himself, but something was eating at him. He looked tired; a red tinge to his eyes, slight bags, and acting more serious than normal.

It couldn't be his cousin that was causing such an amount of stress, could it? I mean, what could he possibly have done or said in the 3 days he's been in the city that'd make Holden loose sleep over?

"What the fuck is a cotillion?" I ask, shoving fries into my mouth and ignoring his dreary state. It's not my place to ask him about Tyler; I've only known him for a little less than a month. Jake or Elijah could talk to him about it.

"A place where you cannot say 'fuck,'" Holden laughs. "Or shove 15 fries in your mouth at once."

I frown at him and squint my eyes. "It was only like 4," I argue playfully, eyeing his captivating smile.

Holden's company wasn't completely unenjoyable.I've come to notice he can actually be pretty fun to be around.

"To answer your question," Holden starts, "cotillion is ball. Like a sort of right of passage. You wear a dress, talk, dance. There's one for freshman girls, and then there's one for senior girls. So basically, you'll be the newcomer. Which won't be that bad, I guess, it might just be a little harder to learn the dances. And get an escort."

"I have to dance?" I groan. I'm not a bad dancer, I just doubt they'll be milly rocking or dabbing anywhere at cotillion. So in regards to ballroom dancing, I guess I am a bad dancer.

"Yeah. But all the girls go to the lessons anyway because their escorts usually need to learn the steps," he explains.

"Escorts?"

"To really get noticed at cotillion you have to have a good escort. Someone good looking, well known, preferably with a lot of money. When they call your name, they call up your escort and basically you just walk down the steps together. It's pretty stupid, if you ask me."

"I don't want to go," I say, thinking out loud.

"You have to. It's probably one of the most important events you'll go to that'll help people notice you."

I sigh, taking a bite of my hamburger.

"Will you escort me?" I ask, not knowing who else I could ask. I don't really know anyone yet, and in regards to his criteria, Holden sounds like one of the best escorts I could get. There's no way I could show up with my cousin. How lame would I look?

"No," Holden says coldly.

His answer actually shocks me, considering how he just told me this cotillion has to be perfect.

"I don't go to cotillion; I never go. Like I said, I think it's pointless."

"But I really need--" I start.

"And we already spend enough time together in public," he cuts me off. "If I go to cotillion, for the first time, as your escort, people are going to think we're dating."